


Dancing

by f0rever15elf



Series: 2020 December Writing Challenge [11]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Other, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, kidnapping mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29009469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: After brining you on as a mechanic, Din stumbles upon you dancing with Grogu, and you’re determined to get the metal man dancing too.
Relationships: Din Djarin x reader, Din Djarin x you - Relationship, din djarin x gender neutral reader
Series: 2020 December Writing Challenge [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127273
Comments: 2
Kudos: 46





	Dancing

Music has always been important to you. In your years on Corellia, it’s been the only thing that’s gotten you through the day. Being able to get lost in the sway of the rhythm and the pulse of the beat makes the days slaving away in shipyards for a few measly credits slightly more bearable. Then at night, in the safety of the, for all intents and purposes, closet that you call home, you dance. You dance until you are so exhausted you all but collapse onto your hole riddled cot, sleeping like the dead until morning comes round again and it’s back to work.

The day the Mandalorian comes to Corellia is the day your music changes. His ship’s badly damaged, a pre-Imperial Razor Crest held together by twine, adhesive, and a breath of a prayer. He’s sought out a mechanic to do the brunt of repairs, but most won’t touch the thing. Most didn’t include you. You bound up to him, a grin on your grease smeared face as your tool belt rattles on your hips.

“You ever worked on something like this?” he rasps through the vocodor in his mask and you shake your head.

“Not this ship exactly, but I’ve worked on a few other types of pre-Empire ships. Most are the same and require more percussive maintenance than you’d think.”

“Percussive maintenance?”

“You hit it until it works. Old ships need some friendly persuasion sometimes.” The metal covered man stares at you for a long moment after that before pulling a pouch out of his saddlebag, holding it out to you. You’re more distracted by the warbled coo that comes from the bag before he tucks it back behind himself.

“There should be plenty there to cover labor and most of the parts you should need. I’ll be back.” He makes to move past you, but you jump in front of him, confusion etched into your brow as you try to peek into his bag.

“You got a kid in there?”

“That’s none of your business. Just fix my ship.”

“This is a bad part of the planet to be walking around with a kid.” You lower your voice, leaning in as you look over your shoulders to make sure no one is listening in. “Nappings are rampant here. Children are stolen to be cultivated as thieves for the underground mob lords here. He’s safer here in the shipyard.”

“Wherever I go, he goes.” Even through the vocodor, his voice is clipped and irritated. “I’m not leaving him with a grease covered stranger on a planet like this.”

“I swear on my mother’s grave, no harm will come to him. Mandalorian, I promise you, he is safer here.” Your stare up at him intensely, your heart pounding in your chest as the moment seems to stretch on to eternity. Eventually, he slowly removes the bag, holding it out to you. In the bag is the strangest looking child you have ever seen, with big green ears and a wrinkly forehead with wispy white hairs and the biggest dark eyes you have ever seen. He coos at you as you take the bag and your heart melts.

“His name is Grogu.” You nod, holding the bag to your chest as you look back to the Mandalorian. “If anything happens to him while I’m gone, you’ll wish you were dead.” You nod, 100% believing the threat as the Mandalorian turns to leave.

“Well, Grogu. Today, you get to be my helper on repairing his ship. Let’s get to work.”

Turns out, the child is actually a pretty good helper once he understands what you’re saying. Fixing the ship turns into a minor lesson on colors and shapes and by the end he’s able to help you with most of the things you ask of him. Two days pass before the Mandalorian returns, and in that time, you and Grogu are able to repair the craft enough to get it airborne without a limp, and seal up the gaping holes in the hull that were a depressurization risk. The sound of heavy boots coming up the ramp alert you to the Mandalorian’s return while you’re tucked up under the control panel in the cockpit, swearing to yourself as you mess with the wiring.

“What are you doing?” Comes the rasp paired with a light kick to your ankle.

“With the way the wiring is corroded down here, I’m surprised this hunk of junk even starts, much less gets into hyperspace.” You yelp when the panel shocks you. “Don’t touch the panel while I’m messing with wires!” you snap, peeking out from under the panel to glare at the bucket headed Mando who apparently thought it smart to go pushing buttons right away. With a shake of your head and a grumble, you tuck yourself back under. “The kid’s asleep in his pram. I’ll be done with this in a few minutes and you’ll be good to go.”

Without a word, the Mandalorian leaves you to your work, going to check on the child, and when you finally crawl from under the panel, closing everything back up, you find him sitting in one of the co-captain chairs, watching you. You wipe your hands cautiously on your rag, ridding them of the grease as best you can as you give him an inquisitive glance. After a tense moment of silence filled with only the sound of music from your headphones, he finally speaks up. “I could use an onboard mechanic. I can pay you for the work.”

“You’re asking me to join your crew?” You’re sure it’s a joke. Some cruel prank the Maker has woven to give you hope of getting off this hellhole. But when the Mando nods, your eyes widen. “Seriously? You just want me to…tag along?”

“Only if you want.” He stands, moving past you to the captain’s chair. “I’ll give you half an hour to get whatever you need and be back at the ramp. If you’re not here, I’ll take your answer as a no.” You stare at the back of his head for a long moment, trying to process everything. He turns his head to you only slightly before answering “Your time has started.” That jolts you back to reality and you’re scrambling from the ship, all but sprinting to your quarters to gather your meager belongings, really only caring about the collection of music and players you’ve amassed. You also manage to snag a few tools from the storage room to bring aboard. You’ve more than paid for them with your blood, sweat, and tears. They could get more.

The sound of your boots on the ramp bring a small smirk to the Mando’s lips behind his helmet, and when you poke your head up into the cockpit, he’s already starting up the ship. “Strap in,” he orders, and you don’t hesitate to listen.

Cycles pass and you settle in as the crew’s mechanic, as well as the pseudo teacher for the kid. He’s smart, there’s no doubt about it, and you’ve learned he likes music almost as much as you do. On the days where Mando, or Din as he allows you to call him, leaves for a bounty, you pass the time entertaining the kid with your music. You’ve figured out a way to wire your music player up to the sound system, letting it play through the ship, much to the delight of the child.

“Have you ever danced, Grogu?” you ask him. His big ears perk up as he tilts his head curiously, and you take that as a no. “I’ll teach you. I think you’ll like it.” Carefully, you take his little hands in your own, lifting them up and down to the beat of the music as you crouch in front of him with a big smile on your face. He coos and babbles, sounding a little unsure at first. “You’ll get it! You just move to the music, okay?” He makes a sound that almost sounds like a yes and you giggle, helping him to dance in front of you a little bit more. “You’re getting it! Good job Grogu!”

He laughs as you scoop him up in your arms, twirling around to dance to the music reverberating through the ship. The beat is lively and fun as you spin around, dancing with the little child in your arms. You’re so wrapped up in dancing that it takes you a minute to realize that the ramp has descended. You spin around with wide eyes to see Din there, leaning against the wall as he watches you silently. “You’re back!” you call, setting the little one down for a moment to run up to Din and grab his hand. “Come dance with us!”

“I don’t dance.”

“That’s quitter talk!” you grin, pulling him into the open area of the hull. You take his other hand as well, doing with him what you did with Grogu, lifting and moving his arms to the beat of the music as you bounce in front of him with a grin. “Come on Din, just move to the music.” He steps side to side and you can tell he’s beyond uncomfortable, but he tries his best, clinging to your hands. Slowly, the song is replaced by a slower one and you grin wider. “This is probably more your speed. You just need to sway to the beat, okay? Here, let me show you where to put your hands.” You lay his hands on your waist, feeling them trembling slightly as you reach up to put your hands on his shoulders, looking up into his visor. “Side to side now, okay?”

It’s a gentle swaying. An awkward swaying, like two kids at their first dance, and you’re sure he’s never done something like this before. His hands eventually stop trembling as he moves back and forth with you, relaxing in your presence, and for a moment everything else melts away. Grogu sits and watches the two of you, head tilted curiously, and he decides now that he likes music even more.

Eventually, the song comes to an end and Din steps back from you, dropping his hands from your waist as you smile up at him. “You did great, Din. Good job.”

He stares down at you for a moment before offering a quiet thanks and moving past you, going to start up the ship. You smile after him before sitting down with Grogu to chatter at him. You’re sure that won’t be the last time you and Din dance in the hull of the Razor Crest. 


End file.
